


how to train your baby vampire

by SlimeQueen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Best Friends, M/M, Raising a Bat, chenle needs to give blood too often, jisung's a vampire, kind of based off of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 04:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17615636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: Chenle supposes there are worse things than having too much blood. And conveniently, his best friend happens to be a vampire.





	how to train your baby vampire

**Author's Note:**

> uhh this is super short but i love the idea of soft shy vampire jisung  
> Please don't repost my fics anywhere without my permission!

Chenle supposes there are worse things than having too much blood. The frequent hospital visits used to annoy him as a child, but that’s before he had Jisung.

They’ve talked about this before, mostly in passing, and mostly from Chenle’s side. The problem lies in the fact that Jisung’s too shy to just _do it_.

But this month, Chenle hadn’t gotten a chance to go to the blood bank to donate, and his fucking body hates him so much that it makes way too many red blood cells and he _needs_ to give blood, unless he wants to get _sick_. And conveniently, his best friend happens to be a vampire.

Unfortunately, a vampire with a conscience.

They’re in Chenle’s living room after school, and Jisung hasn’t fed all week. He’s been antsy all day, and Chenle wants him to just shut up and do it before his parents get home. The whole situation with Jisung being a vampire is a secret from them, and Chenle doesn’t need them walking in to Chenle undressed and Jisung’s mouth on his neck, because _that_ would just be a disaster.

He says as much to Jisung, who is sitting on the adjacent couch, trying his best to think of an argument that even he knows will fail.

“Is it because it’s me?” Chenle demands, “Because we’re best friends? Do I not smell good, or something?”

Jisung shrugs uncomfortably, pushing his glasses up the ridge of his nose. “You don’t smell awful,” he says, crossing his arms in front of him. Like a barrier, Chenle notices with some dissatisfaction.

“Huh,” Chenle comments, hooking a leg over the other. “So, what you really mean is that I smell delicious and you’re too dumb to admit it.”

For someone who doesn’t have any blood to blush with, Jisung’s face is awfully red.

“Look,” Chenle sighs, long and deep, just to get his point across. “If you need blood, you don’t have to go around scaring people and taking it from them. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you out?”

Jisung blinks a couple times like he’s trying to formulate his thoughts, then says a little dubiously, “I guess.”

Chenle grins in triumph, fingers flying up to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the top two to loosen his collar. “So, you’ll drink?”

Jisung makes a small choked noise in his throat, eyes widening. “Not from there!” he yelps, the blush back on his face. His eyes dart around nervously, sweeping up and down Chenle’s body, (lingering on the exposed skin of his neck, Chenle notices with some satisfaction), and eventually he stammers, “Your-your wrist, give me your wrist.”

Chenle can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “Alright,” he agrees, extending a hand out for Jisung to take.

Jisung’s long fingers wrap around his forearm, pulling it closer to him. His eyes travel up the length of Chenle’s arm, following the purplish veins under pale skin. “Okay,” he sighs softly, “Tell me if you start feeling lightheaded or if it starts to hurt.”

Chenle’s answering grin is so wide it makes him wince a little. “Okay,” he repeats immediately. “Bite me.”

Jisung sighs once more, heavily, like he’s regretting his life (undead?) choices, and dips his head lower to press his lips to Chenle’s wrist.

Despite himself, Chenle finds himself tensing, not quite knowing what to expect. Instead of the sting of his skin breaking, though, he just feels the soft press of Jisung’s lips clasping in a kiss over his wrist.

He hadn’t expected that. His cheeks heat up a little, and he takes a slow breath to calm himself. Then, Jisung looks up through his eyelashes, normally dark eyes glimmering deep red, the color of drying blood. It’s an eerie color. What’s equally as eerie is the glint of his teeth when he bares them, his incisors having lengthened into delicate razor-sharp fangs.

Chenle shivers just a little.

And then comes the sting he’d been waiting for, just for a second, as Jisung’s teeth pierce his skin.

Chenle can’t stop watching, his wide eyes focused on the movement of Jisung’s mouth, lips still so fucking soft over his skin, the bobbing of his throat when he swallows, the way his fingers tighten a little on Chenle’s arm.

And then, instead of hurting, it starts feeling really nice.

Maybe it’s all in his head, but the sensation becomes like a pressure inside him letting out, warmth filling him. He’s had to donate his blood often, and it’s made him much too acquainted with the feeling of a needle sliding deep into his skin. This is nothing like that. This is strange and new and intimate. This is Jisung and him, undisturbed and raw.

Something more than blood flows between them. Trust, maybe. Perhaps something even deeper. Something that he doesn’t want to name just yet, because it makes something in his stomach flutter nervously.

Then, all too soon, Jisung pulls his mouth away.

Chenle jerks out of his stupor, blinks several times to clear his head, and says, dumbfounded, “oh.”

His wrist is still bleeding a little, two perfect circular puncture marks marring the thin skin there. They well up, blood dripping over the curve of his arm.

Jisung makes an undignified little noise, swooping back down, his tongue peeking out between his lips to chase the lines. His tongue feels like velvet against Chenle’s skin as it sweeps over the wounds.

His saliva makes the cuts close up like they’d never been there in the first place, and Chenle waits until Jisung lets go of him to bring his arm up to his eyes, examining where they’d been.

He presses a thumb into his wrist curiously, but besides being a little damp from Jisung’s tongue, there’s no trace of the bite.

Jisung’s tongue sweeps over his top layer of teeth, and when he speaks, Chenle notices that his fangs have retracted again. “Are you okay?” he frets, “You’re not going to like, pass out, are you?”

Chenle crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m fine,” he says. “Wow, that did _not_ feel like I thought it was going to.”

Jisung frowns, and a little dent forms between his eyebrows when they furrow together. “Was it gross?”

Far from it, but Chenle would rather die than let Jisung know that his heart had skipped a beat when the younger boy’s lips had brushed his skin in that fucking kiss. So, he opts to say, “It wasn’t _awful_.”

Jisung flops back onto the couch, hides a smile into one of the cushions that he hugs to his chest. “So, can we do that again?”

Chenle sticks a foot out, reaches it over to the other couch and gently pushes it against Jisung’s. “If it means I don’t have to go to the blood bank every month anymore, you can have as much as you want.”

He sure is glad that Jisung’s laying down now, because he doesn’t think he could stop the grin spreading on his mouth if he tried.

Jisung grabs his foot with superhuman speed. “So that’s what you’re using me for,” he accuses.

“Is there any other reason?” Chenle asks innocently, wrenching his ankle free from Jisung’s grasp.

Jisung rolls his eyes, sitting up a fraction of the way. He says, so quick that Chenle has to struggle to understand, “Thanks, by the way.”

Chenle wants to repeat nonchalantly, “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help out?” but the words get stuck in his throat. He wants to convey something more, something meaningful, but he can’t find the words. Instead, he nods shortly and says, “Of course.”

Jisung smiles at him, and Chenle pushes away the strange feeling in his chest, tries his best to grin back.

There may be a name for what he’s beginning to feel, what is beginning to develop between them, but for now, Chenle is content with this.


End file.
